


Words

by stuckwithasnakeboy



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, self deprecating thoughts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28498095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckwithasnakeboy/pseuds/stuckwithasnakeboy
Summary: The words kept flowing, they were like a river that didn’t stop flowing but by god was Janus trying so hard to build a damn and he was failing terribly.
Kudos: 18





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: self harm, self deprecating thoughts

The words. They clawed their way back into his mind. They were ruthless, terrible. They terrified him. It would comfort him if they were lies but he saw them as the truth. It was true.

Janus viewed himself as worthless.

He had nothing that made people stay. Virgil left. He hadn't even said a goodbye. Not long later he found the jacket, the one he had given him, in his old bedroom.

Remus was gone. He was busy with other things. They were more important. They were much more important than him.

The more he thought about it the more he blamed himself. It was his fault. It was always his fault and he would always be the bad guy. He was easy enough to blame. He represented lies. He would always be seen as the bad guy. It didn't matter if they excepted him as apart of Thomas or not. He would always be the easiest to blame.

The words. They clawed their way back to the surface. They were the words that spoke the truth. They were the words that told him he was a terrible person, that he didn't deserve what he had. That was why it was taken from him. They were the words that told him he was an abomination.

He placed his heads on his head, his hat falling off from the motion. It started off as some pressure, like it would squeeze out those thoughts, those words.

It didn't work.

Hair. His fingers wrapped themselves around his hair. There was a pull, sharp and quick enough to cause pain but not hard enough to pull out any hair.

It stopped . . . for a moment.

But they care back. They always came back. That's when the tears started forming. His hands still tangled in his hair as the tears welled up in his eyes.

He hated crying. He hated it so much. He hated it more than most.

His hands went to his face as the tears started to fall. They soaked his gloves to the point where he had to take them off. He threw them across the room. His hands went back to furiously wiping away the tears.

They didn't stop.

The banging started

One hand hit his scales and his other hit the soft skin that was his cheek. Time after time again they clashed with his face.

It was too hot.

Why was it so hot? He didn't know.

The banging continued fore several more minutes until it became scratching. 

The scratching went from his face down to his neck and then his hands found the chain of his cape. The small, tiny cape that had come with his job as the villain. His fingers tightened around the chain and then he yanked. The chain, cheap and easily molded, broke. He threw the cape across the room. He didn't look where, he just threw.

The buttons for his shirt? Now nonexistent. It was too hot, he wore too many layers. His shirt? It, too, laid somewhere on the floor in his room.

The scales, the bruises, the scars, the scratches. All of them, whether they be new or old, were now on display. His hands covered his eyes as the tears keep coming. It seemed as though nothing could stop them from flowing.

He keep crying, the tears never stopping. It may have been mere seconds or it could have been for hours. He couldn't tell. He didn't keep track. Either way he didn't care.

He almost let a sob out when he heard a knock on his door. "Hey, Janus, i don't know if you know or not but we're having a movie night. Feel free to come join us!" the cheery, happy voice of Patton said.

He could tell it wasn't fake, that the dad-figure was genuinely happy. He was jealous. How could he be so unapologetically himself? How could he recover so quickly? He was envious.

"Thank you, Patton, I'll be there in a few minutes," he said.

Then he heard the footsteps descend away from his door. Another tear rolled down his face. He was quick to wipe it away.

He got up and grabbed his gloves and hat. He had a spare shirt and cape in his closet. He looked at himself in his mirror. His hair was a mess, his eyes red, his skin puffy. He looked at his chest, new scratches, some blood had been drawn. He didn't remember scratching his chest but it must have happened.

He started to walk to his closet. He felt dizzy, lightheaded. He was doing his best to put his mask back on and stop being effected by those words.


End file.
